


Waiting

by MikaMyers



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bad Ending(?), Bleak, Experimental Style, Gen, Open to Interpretation, Writing Exercise, perhaps a teaser for something in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 16:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaMyers/pseuds/MikaMyers
Summary: Souji waits patiently. The knock never comes.





	Waiting

A leather-bound book lays on top of the desk. Dust and webs stick the binding to the wood of the desk. Walking closer, a small desk lamp sadly hangs its bulb. The chain is pulled, causing a beam of harrowing light to engulf the surrounding environment.

With a hand, the book is flipped towards the first page, a puff of dust causing particles to litter the air. 

_ Once upon a time, there lived a boy with silver hair. He ventured far and out, always ready for the next big affair.  _

_ One day his parents left him in a new town, one that caused him to have a big old frown. His sadness wept, leaving a trail of tears that none but himself could ever bear. _

_ The town itself was small and dainty, full of legends and people who didn’t take to him greatly.  _

_ Only a few could see him, to look at his mask and see what lay beneath. He came to love, to breathe, to need, those surrounding him, a lifeline of sorts that fed him tranquility. _

_ The other world beckoned and hollered, telling him things that would cause him great bother. He tried and tried to keep them away, to tell them to go and to stay at bay. They never listened, only growing stronger, ready to attack and ready to slaughter. _

_ Even after he vanquished his foes, to have his friends accept the things they kept close, there was one that was never seen, even by the ones he considered close. It waited in the darkness, waited in the light, waiting for so long, waiting for him to take the bite. _

_ Finally, after time passed, the gap grew deeper, the need to see himself, the need to be slicker. He saw himself in that great big static, he saw himself and his dynamics. He took the plunge into the dark unknown, ready to face himself, and ready to see what was behind the hero. _

_ To be continued. _

He looks up from the page, head cocked and at the ready for what was to come.

He waits.

And waits…

The silence becomes consuming.

The silence laughs at him, laughs at his assumptions.

There was no one else in the room. He was all alone, left with the book. With the many books that littered the shelves, with the television that sat unplugged in the corner. He was all alone.

He waits for the others. For anyone.

There is no sign of the others.

It’s too quiet in the room.

He sits down at the desk, staring into the page, staring so hard that the letters began to swim in his vision until they crossed and mixed with one another to become something completely different.

_ Everyone leaves except the silence.  _

He closes the book.

He waits.

Now he stands. His footsteps don’t make any noise against the floor. His eyes stare out the window.

It’s dark. He can’t see anything. His own reflection is barely shown in the window.

He looks older. Hand to chin. Hair had grown. He wasn’t known to grow facial hair.

He remembers her laughing at that.

He sits back down.

His body hurts.

He can’t get back up again. It hurts.

A feeble hand grasps the book’s cover, flipping it open.

_ They left you. _

He doesn’t remember them.

He can’t move his hand. Pain shoots through his joints.

The room grows darker.

He closes his eyes.

He opens them.

A leather-bound book lays on top of the desk. Dust and webs stick the binding to the wood of the desk. Walking closer, a small desk lamp sadly hangs its bulb. The chain is pulled, causing a beam of harrowing light to engulf the surrounding environment.

With a hand, the book is flipped towards the first page, a puff of dust causing particles to litter the air. 

He reads the entry. 

He looks up from the page, head cocked and at the ready for what was to come.

He waits.

And waits…

The silence becomes consuming.

The silence laughs at him, laughs at his assumptions.

He goes to the television. It’s plugged in.

He turns it on.

The news is playing.

He likes the news.

A report is playing. Bodies of six teenagers were found. They hang from antennas.

He doesn’t like the news.

He turns the television off.

His footsteps don’t make any noise against the floor. His eyes stare out the window.

It’s dark. He can’t see anything. His own reflection is barely shown in the window.

He looks the same. Unassuming.

He remembers someone’s laugh. It’s faint.

He sits back down.

He waits patiently. He has time.

No one knocks.

His eyes close.

He opens them.

A leather-bound book lays on top of the desk. Dust and webs stick the binding to the wood of the desk. Walking closer, a small desk lamp sadly hangs its bulb. The chain is pulled, causing a beam of harrowing light to engulf the surrounding environment.

With a hand, the book is flipped towards the first page, a puff of dust causing particles to litter the air. 

He can’t read it.

A television sits in the corner. He tries to turn it on. It won’t turn on.

He’s back at the desk.

A small hand grasps at a picture frame. He takes a look at the picture.

They all stare at him. They’re smiling.

He doesn’t know who they are.

They laugh at him.

He sets the picture frame down.

He sits on the floor.

His eyes close.

He opens them.

A phone sits on the desk.

He picks it up, flipping it open.

He tries to call the numbers saved on the phone.

None answer.

He frowns.

He turns on the television.

A report of six teenagers found dead is displayed.

They wheel a victim on a stretcher.

He tries calling again.

A phone is heard ringing from the television.

The television cuts out. Only static plays.

He goes back to the desk. A book lays there.

He opens it.

_ They’re gone. _

The silence laughs at him.

**Author's Note:**

> I already have a few projects but I like challenging myself. This may be a 'teaser' of sorts for something in the future. This is not how I write usually but I wanted to try my hand at something much more short and sweet I guess. The rhyming was hard to do since I'm terrible at it but I really wanted to include it for the 'story' portion. You can take this story as however you want. I have an idea on what's happening but I don't want to limit people's interpretations. I appreciate you reading. Peace.


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